Ghostrick
by Divell
Summary: UA. Stan Marsh has just moved to South Park, the town where his father lived his childhood. He hoped it was like a normal move: to mate with his new life, miss his New York friends, and survive in his new school. However, he soon becomes involved in the local legend about the mysterious Tucker mansion, and the move takes second place to the supernatural.


**Chapter 1**

The changes are shit, Stan Marsh thought for the thousandth time since leaving Denver spend almost an hour ago. Colorado's capital was his last stop on the "civilization". Now closer and closer to a small town lost in the middle of the Rocky Mountains, South Park, which would be his new home.

It was not that Stan did not like nature, in fact, loved nature and the people where they would live was surrounded by her; but the point was that it was far from everything that had hitherto been his life in New York.

His father, on the other hand, was excited. South Park was his hometown and had not been in it since his family moved from there to more than twenty years. His father, Randy, was ten when his family just packed up and went to the east coast never to return. Now again, dragging his wife and two sons with him, for a very important reason: the people needed a geologist for monitoring station nearby volcano and Randy had been chosen for that position.

Beside her, Shelly, her older sister looked just as annoyed him; except for the fact that Stan did not exteriorized as well.

Pass'm right, I'll see Randy said, trying to spread a little of his usual optimism for the new to her children. There is snow almost all year round and the mountain air is good for your lungs. After so long in the polluted atmosphere of New York, this will be a big change.

'I like New York more than a stupid mountain village Shelly snapped. Sure all the guys there are idiots and girls should not have much to talk about except snow and mountains.

Come, daughter, you say that like South Park was completely incommunicado said her mother, Sharon, who showed neutral about it.

'It's a missing link in the middle of mountains pueblucho!

Well, thanks to the new road does not take more than an hour and a half to get to Denver, so it's not so bad.

Papa, hour and a half on the road is an eternity!

The man just shook his head, perhaps realizing that it was impossible to convince Shelly that his new home was not as bad as she tried to represent.

The truth was that Sharon had warned that they would have these problems. After all, they were forced to leave a lifetime ago-which included friends, school and perhaps romances- to go somewhere completely unknown. South Park had nothing but things told by her father and uncle, along with a few family photographs. Nothing, really, if you take into account how much time might have changed in those two decades.

Stan glanced out the window to see. On leaving Denver everything looked farms were now was an endless row of pine trees. In addition, the snow was beginning to be present as climbed the mountainside.

He sighed. The issue I had upset and annoyed. If only it were to go on vacation a couple of weeks maybe I'd be excited. He was not ready to start again at that site. New York had not had many friends, but the few who were left behind possibly the best we have in life. At least from the perspective of an eight years.

What was in South Park for him? Snow was funny when expecting a few months each winter. Have it almost all year long could mean lost its natural charm. What was fun to make a snowman if you can build one every week?

About twenty minutes later, the pines began to be a little more scarce, until one side of the road appeared a wooden sign, which was announced:

 _"Welcome to South Park, Colorado"_

-We family announced Randy, with a hint of nostalgia was not lost on anyone.

They walked to a quaint little town aspect. The houses were all the same, only varying colors. And people were very warm all the street, even though, according to the schedule, there were still some weeks of the summer season. Here, however, the snow and covered everything.

They stopped in front of a dull green house, just like the other houses on the street. They got out of the truck and Randy took a deep breath as he made a theatrical gesture with his hands.

-Air cool said.

Shelly, saying nothing, went with his father and stood outside the door, crossing his arms impatiently. Finally, the man shrugged and went to open the door.

Inside was a small chaos of cardboard boxes packed, left there by the mover, and wrapped in protective plastic furniture.

Well, family, we spend the weekend ordering our new home Randy said, as he picked up a copy of the keys of the house moving employees had left on a cardboard box on one side of the front door.

Just tell me where is the damn modem for Wifi password Shelly said, taking long strides as he walked.

-no modem replied her mother. The Internet company will install it until Monday.

-¡Pasare a weekend without internet! Shelly shouted very cabreada-. How I am supposed to chateare with my friends?

You'll have to wait until Monday daughter said her father. And with how busy you'll be ordering your new room, time will go fast.

Marvelous replied sarcastically and went upstairs to go see the aforementioned room.

Stan sighed and followed the example of his sister. Beside, Sparky, your dog, ran very happy exploring her new home.

At least someone whispered sports, as he stood outside the door where there was a piece of paper stuck with his name printed in black letters.

It was a slightly wider than it was on the floor of New York room, that had to admit; but that it made her look intimidating.

The time was as fast as his father had said, between up and down to collect the boxes with their belongings and luggage. He spent much of the afternoon taking clothes to put the suitcases in the closet and dresser; unpacking books, video games, computer and toys to rearrange them on the desk, shelves and bookcase much as they were in their old room way.

When he realized, it was already dark and his mother was calling them for dinner.

By then I was lying in bed with eyes fixed on the window. The sky had cleared and now shone a huge moon, reflecting its silvery glow on the snow made the night saw much brighter than it should be. Although not as much as in New York and its lights never went out.

As usual, the presence of the moon felt reassuring. For it was a custom watch when I was in a situation like that. The simple fact of seeing her up there, oblivious to all concerns, made him think that his problems were insignificant.

He was about to get up and down to dinner, when it seemed that a shadow passed at high speed flying in front of the moon. He blinked several times and rubbed his eyes with astonishment. The classic image of the shadow of a witch flying on her broom against full moon he came to mind immediately.

-go nonsense, he told, forcing herself to think of something else. He was probably too tired and had imagined that.

-¡Stanley, down to dinner! she called her mother again.

Without paying attention to what looked outside the window, Stan left the room and went to the first floor.

Dinner turned out to be the local Chinese food restaurant in charge. Since her mother was too tired to cook for the trip, it would have to settle for the night. Dinner was somewhat silent, mainly because neither Shelly and Stan were eager to talk.

'Have them talk about the old haunted mansion? Randy suddenly asked, breaking the monotony.

No, 'said Shelly reluctantly, but then smirked seeing as Stan gave a small shift in his chair.

Well, it's a big old Victorian house on the outskirts of the village began to tell Randy Marsh. It is said that the mid-nineteenth century a powerful European family, Tucker, sent to build a huge mansion on the hill, northeast of the town. Finally moved there four: father, mother, son and daughter. It was a strange family, they never left the mansion and the only people who came and went from there were his servants.

"Once a month, an elderly couple down to town and bought groceries from the house. It is not related to anybody and spoke only what is necessary. For the people were running all sorts of strange rumors about Tucker. Since they were some sort of aristocracy of old Europe, who detested the common villagers, even those who said that maybe they were some kind of monster.

That's ridiculous Shelly snapped.

-can it be said Randy, while a shrug, but the truth is that one night horrible screams were heard in the mansion. And since the elderly couple left the house to go shopping was never seen again.

"Finally, some men armed themselves of value and decided to climb the hill in search of the Tucker family. It is said that all they found were the mutilated bodies of Tucker gentlemen, the elderly couple and the other employees of the house. never the bodies of the children of the marriage were found.

Stan swallowed and tried to hide her fear by focusing on your plate. He loathed that kind of stories. Shelly was to blame, whom time jugándole jokes and scaring him with ghost stories almost since he was a baby passed.

And now, even though the story seemed ridiculous for the simple fact keep pestering Stan, he followed his father thread.

'And just why some deranged adults killed and abducted children, now they believe that the house is haunted? Shelly asked.

Well, partly. But also, it is said that on certain nights of the year you can see a yellow glow that runs windows and forth on the second floor. Similarly, some people claim to have heard children's laughter when they pass next to the old gates of the garden.

"And that's not all, over the years, many village children have disappeared. It is said that the ghosts of the house go out at night Halloween and when they find an unsuspecting boy, who perhaps mistakenly been separated of his friends while asking sweets, hijack it and take it to the Tucker mansion. there, he is forced to share the Halloween party with them. If you do not find the way out of the mansion before it reaches the dawn, He is trapped forever in the house with the ghosts of other children who live there.

Stan seemed that as she spoke, her father's face darkened a little. Shelly, however, snorted at that.

-Please, Dad, it's the most ridiculous ghost story I've heard in my life. It is full of old cliches and does not scare anyone. His gaze drifted to Stan, who had turned a little pale, while cringed in his seat and biting the rice with a fork. Shelly smiled a little, then added mischievously: Just scare a crying baby, right, Stan?

His brother pulled himself together a bit and glowered.

-¡No I'm scared, monster girl! Stan shouted.

-children, please -Les scolded his mother. The two brothers were dropped warning looks, though they added no more.

Well, I just wanted to spice up the dinner he said Randy shrugged.

His mother shook her head, before turning his attention back to them.

Well, if you already finished, they go wash and then to bed -pidió.

Without another word, they both got up and went to do exactly what Sharon had asked.

While Stan was waiting outside the bathroom to Shelly finished brushing your teeth, you could not stop mulling over the story his father had told them. That is, Shelly was right, it was a cliché ghost story and they also did not exist; but despite that I could not stop thinking about her. And for some reason the image of the shadow that had been passed the moon an hour ago did not help much.

When it was finally time bedtime, she decided to close the window curtain. I was not going to risk another witness rare.

As sleep came over him, he thought he heard a faint girl laugh, a laugh that at times closely resembled a meow.

.-.-.-.

On Sunday morning, Marsh headed to the local church for the Mass at ten o'clock. There appeared before the Father Maxi, the local priest, who asked if Stan was already going to the Sunday catechism classes. Upon receiving a negative response, he gave a speech about hell and souls of children convicted not prepared to receive the holy sacraments. This left very frightened child who immediately asked his parents to enroll in classes.

Most of the rest of the day was to finish furniture and accommodate the new house back home. After dinner, his mother sent them to rest early because the next day they would have to go to school.

Stan was not happy with the latter.

It was he did not like school, indeed had always been a student of good grades in most of their subjects, like math and some at least decent. What bothered him was the fact that it would be a new school, with children and teachers who did not know ... Sure would despise him for being new. He remembered as some of his old school children picked on newcomers, especially when leagues coming from smaller places and quiet you could tell that the Big Apple. Perhaps would be the same with him: the village children despise him for being a city dweller, as happened in many films and television series.

With all these doubts, Stan fell asleep without ever thinking about the legend that his father had told them the night before.

So when Monday morning came a nervous Stan was prepared with a new brown jacket and a blue cap with a red pompom her mother had bought her before leaving New York.

Shelly mocked his hat saying that made him look like a complete idiot. And Stan really believed, further increasing nervousness. Sure the other kids would make fun of him as they saw it take that in mind. Sharon tried to reassure him but did not seem to hear. It is normal, teasing older siblings generally have more effect than the words of comfort from parents.

And finally Stan found at the bus stop near his home awaiting transport to pass through there on their way to school school bus.

He was there at least ten minutes before the yellow bus finally stopped in front of him. No other child appeared to stop at that time. Apparently he was the only one on that street taking the school bus. It did not take long to tackle and feel the curious stares of all children still in it. With downcast eyes, he advanced to the final of the vehicle and sat in a corner.

He felt a bit relieved to find that many other kids wore hats similar to yours. Of course, he said, South Park is a winter village, it was natural that there were many hats like hers. He'd been a fool to believe Shelly teasing. You'd think that after a whole life living with her and would have used.

When the school bus in front stopped, Stan let all the other kids go down before doing so himself.

Elementary School South Park was a square two-storey building, painted yellow. He walked through the snow and finally came. The halls were packed with students who then reencontraban vacation. Stan felt really lost. Unknown faces everywhere, people going from one place to another looking for their new lockers, teachers tried to impose some order, trying their cries overcome the tidal wave of children's voices.

Completely confused, Stan could not do anything but stay standing amid the chaos. Feeling that surely looked like an idiot, standing there looking around not knowing where I was really standing, her embarrassment and nervousness increased.

Are you all right, kid?

Stan was startled to hear a deep voice behind him. He turned slowly, meeting a black man, somewhat overweight, wearing a red shirt and over it an apron with the word "chef" embroidered in large black letters.

No you look great man said when he saw her pale, frightened face.

I'm new Stan said, slowly, but high enough so that his voice was recognizable voices in the tide of the hall.

Well, it's the first day of school, so there may be many out there that are so. To what degree are you going, boy?

Hey, fourth grade.

-private he repeated, taking a thoughtful gesture for a moment. Secure your turn to Garrison or Diane. You should review the lists there stuck in school announcements in the school hall, to see classroom teacher and you belong. Fourth grade classrooms are on the first floor, on the left side of the building. Right downtown, it is not very difficult.

Stan thanked the man and immediately went to get the lists mentioned.

In the main hall there was a lot of guys crowding against advertisements, trying to revise the lists. Out some happy, others shocked, perhaps because teacher or classmates had touched them this year.

Stan sighed and had no choice but to penetrate in the tide of students every year to reach fourth grade lists. When he finally found his name, he reads the following:

 _"Stanley R. Marsh, 4° Grado, Grupo 1, Prof. Herbert Garrison"_

Stan was quick to take a picture to your phone list and then returned to fight the tide of boys, who seemed to have diminished in the least, to get out of there. He went quickly to the left side of the building and climbed the stairs to the next floor. The two fourth-grade classrooms were in the middle of the hall, as he said the chef, facing each other.

He walked to the door that was marked as the fourth grade hall 1. He breathed deeply, took the knob and entered.

Inside the classroom and there were some kids who were talking to each other. Some turned to the door and devoted curious glances, but most went on with it. The teacher was not in sight. Stan crossed the room and sat at a desk near the window. He remained looking out. The sky was leaden and snow was falling, typical, so I knew the people.

It took about fifteen minutes, in which the classroom was filled gradually until finally the bell rang. Being the first day classes started later than usual, something very natural given the unusual rush of students seeking their new classrooms. Moreover, as in any ordinary first day of classes, probably they would not do much. Perhaps a review of material from the previous year or an essay on vacation.

The door opened and a bald man, wearing a green jacket and glasses, entered the classroom.

Well, damn brats, they'd better be quiet. God, I have a terrible hangover from last night's revelry!

He sat on the desk and then sat back on the books, where shortly afterwards he fell asleep without caring in the least what the students did.

Stan was really surprised. What kind of teacher was that?

Shh, eh, boy listened a whispered coming from the back of the classroom.

He turned, meeting a group of guys a couple of seats behind him. They looked unpleasant. He highlighted what appeared to be the leader. Tall for his age, corpulent and blond hair. His face was classic school bully.

Stan managed to swallow and not to appear weak before him and his friends. That would be a death sentence to someone who obviously would ruin his life if he considered easy prey. He had learned that Shelly as having a big sister.

-Yes? he asked softly, trying to moderate his tone not prove shaky.

Are you the new, no? Which recently he moved to Avenida de los Mexicanos.

Stan nodded.

Well, 'said the blond, at recess, we wait behind the kitchens. Begin your hazing, you'd better be there or ... put down the word in the air to give an air of menace.

Professor jumped up and looked at all students a moment, frowning. Everyone, including Stan-more by instinct than anything else, settled into their seats quietly, pretending they did not do anything special. Professor frowned, certainly not convinced of what he saw, but let it pass and finally settled back to sleep.

Stan was very nervous, as the hours passed and lunch was getting closer. His mind was spinning again and again to the possible things that could involve hazing.

I had heard rumors about such rituals for rookies school. None was nice, it said. Would you be forced to eat dirt? Maybe you steal something from the principal's office? What if I had to stick my head in a toilet? Uncertainty and fear were tearing.

During lunch, Stan did not feel much like eating, still stood in line to buy anything. When their turn to be served the dish arrived, he was not surprised that the man who had helped him out that morning who served lunch.

No you look great, the chef boy said as he poured chicken salad on her tray.

-no went very good chef. Perhaps for the help they had given him in the morning, or how so kind they behaved, did not know, but Stan had decided to trust that man.

-Garrison, right? He replied the chef and served an extra dessert (chocolate ice cream) on her plate. Stan nodded, taking that as an excuse. I did not feel like talking to anyone about the hazing that awaited him in a more- hour. Do not pay much attention. Focus more on what you put into your books and less on silly things he says and will spend this year.

Thank you, chef.

-no that guy.

Hey, my name is Stan. Thanks, again.

He took his tray and went to find where to sit.

He not yet had much of an appetite, but decided to eat everything; more because it showed that the chef was trying to cook for children. It was really good. I could only think of someone with better seasoning for chicken salad, and that was her grandmother.

Finally came the moment of hazing. Stan hurried back to the kitchen after asking for directions to some children playing with a ball in the yard. The thugs were not there, although a group of guys dressed in black who smoked cigarettes while listening to gothic music.

-¿Se you lost something, conformist? He said one of them.

He appeared to be of age. A lock of hair was dyed red, which was continually going to the front, so threw her head back to accommodate in a gesture that seemed a sort of tic.

Stan was quick to shake his head and just then the thugs arrived.

'Well, what was missing,' he said the taller of the boys black-. Conformist and cliché scene school bullies.

Better shut your mouth, emo shit, or I'll shut up he threatened the burly blond.

'Who the fuck emo flames, I fucking conformist? furiously snapped the boy.

'We have time for this, Trent she called the attention of other thugs. A broad forehead guy, wearing a purple jacket with black stripes. Stan felt some fear in his voice. In addition, he noticed that his eyesight remained fixed on the only girl in town.

Blonde, Trent, gave a last look of threat to the boys of the stairs, before concentrating his attention back to Stan.

Well, well said fortachón-. I was thinking of doing the rituals of rigor typical of hazing. But I think we can try something more fun. Have you heard of the Tucker house?

Stan nodded slightly.

My father lived in the village as a child. He told me.

Perfect, then we will not lose much time.

Trent put his arm around Stan's shoulder and forced him to turn his gaze toward a hill behind the school. The boy paled when he saw the huge, gloomy building behind it. For a moment he imagined thunder in the sky and a pale yellow light moving through the windows of the second floor, as his father told him a couple of nights ago.

That's the mansion Trent Tucker said, soltándolo-. Tonight at ten, you have to go there. We'll wait at the door, so do not think about not introduce. You'll get there. It is said that the daughter of the family was a fan and had many dolls in her room on the second floor. They are still there, since no one, not even the thieves, dares to enter. But you're going to do. You go up to the second floor, shopped room that child and will bring one of his wrists. Sure you liked, you fagot face.

That said, the thugs walked away laughing.

Stan stood facing the old mansion.

Do they have some coffee? he asked the guys after him.

He turned to meet the inquisitive and curious glances.

-are gothic, right?

The boy nodded lock on her forehead.

Then he has said coffee. New York had a friend who was Gothic, Darky, was nicknamed. Sometimes he accompanied drinking coffee.

The only girl in the group, something small and chubby, gave him a puzzled look.

-¿Una Gothic meeting with a conformist?

Stan tilted his head in a gesture of confusion.

'It's not so strange. New York is very common for people of different subcultures coexist with each other. Except for emos, of course.

The highest finally passed a disposable cup, which had served coffee from a thermos.

Thanks Stan said and took a small sip. It was a little warmer than I used to, though given the weather and what had just happened, that would go over well.

-What's your name? He asked the smallest of the group. His height must be in kindergarten.

Stan Marsh. My family moved from New York this weekend.

The highest nodded before presenting:

I'm Michael. Then he told his friends. Henrietta, Pete and Firkle.

A pleasure, Stan guys said, finishing his coffee. He sat wonderful to get rid of fright.

His gaze turned back to the mansion.

'Then will you do what those fools want? he asked Pate, while the lock leaned back again.

I must do it, 'said Stan. It will be worse if I do not. I know how bullies like that work.

Although, if it was completely honest with himself, he dreaded the thought of having to enter a supposedly haunted house.

To forget a little of that, he chatted a bit with the guys on various topics, especially gothic music, which was known by her friend Darky. Finally he bids farewell to hear the bell to return to classes.

Gothic did not move from there.


End file.
